


Black Irises in the Sunshine

by TheAsexualScorpio



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, Anal Sex, Bottom Qrow Branwen, Clover is horny, Explicit Sexual Content, Inaccurate Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Love Confessions, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Qrow is oblivious and angsty, Sex Pollen, Top Clover Ebi, please help him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:07:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29750406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualScorpio/pseuds/TheAsexualScorpio
Summary: The light and dark pantheons do not mix.It is a lesson Qrow, the god of misfortune, has taken to heart, and now his niece, a nature deity, is in love with a goddess of the dead. Qrow and Clover are supposed to guard her and keep her from making her father's mistakes, but Yang's newest creation turns out to be a powerful distraction.It might also help Qrow learn a new lesson.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 9
Kudos: 36





	Black Irises in the Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> I rolled some dice over a list of AUs and got a "Gods AU + Sex Pollen" combo platter. The sex pollen is minor, and I didn't really see it having much of an effect on Qrow/Clover's ability to consent, but it could be read that way. You have been warned.

Qrow was lounging on a black sofa when Blake tried to sneak into the underworld.

Qrow bit back a sigh when an ache blossomed in his chest. It felt like his ribcage was slowly but surely being pried apart. He put down the glass of wine he’d been pouring and brought the bottle to his lips instead. Head tilted back, he drained it in several long swallows, keeping Blake in his sight. Just when she started to relax, obviously thinking she’d managed to avoid him, he put the bottle down with a thunk. 

“Freeze.”

Blake stopped, back tense and shoulders hunched. 

“Turn.”

She turned on her heel, and her face was impressively blank. 

Qrow sat up, loose-limbed from the wine. “Explain.”

Blake raised an eyebrow. “I was coming home?”

“The summoning I’m trying to resist tells me you came _somewhere_.”

That broke her composure, and she shuddered. “You are disgusting.”

“And _you_ have no sense of self-preservation. Taiyang has made it clear he doesn’t want you sniffing around his daughter. _I’ve_ made it clear that the light and dark pantheons don’t mix.” 

“I never asked for your advice,” she said stiffly. “You’re Yang’s uncle, not mine.” 

“Then I’ll say it again as Yang’s uncle. This has got to stop.”

Before Qrow could say anything else, the pain in his chest peaked, and he disappeared. He rolled his eyes when he reappeared outside of a familiar glade. Wonderful. Guard duty. 

To the east, the sun was blinding. Shafts of burning light pierced the foliage overhead and beat down on Qrow’s head and shoulders, while to the west, the sky was as dark as a bruise. Heat lightning crackled threateningly across the gathered clouds. The glade was where the sweltering heat and rising storm clashed and the air into something only slightly more breathable than soup. Already, sweat was dampening Qrow’s clothing and trickling down his limbs. 

"You are not allowed to see her, Yang! End of discussion," Taiyang roared. The sun flared brighter, and the sky around it turned white. 

"You don't get to make this choice for me, Dad! I love her!" Yang shouted back. A massive bolt of lightning lit the sky, and Qrow winced as an unlucky tree was reduced to ash.

It was even hotter in the forest now. Drops of sweat rolled down either side of Qrow’s nose, and his clothes were starting to stick to his body. His pomegranate-red himation vanished with a touch, leaving Qrow in a near-translucent tunic that fell to mid-thigh and bared his left shoulder. He pulled it away from his body and shook it back and forth. He enjoyed the breeze the action created, but he was hoping to get it at least a little dry before— 

“Qrow.”

With a resigned sigh, Qrow let go of his tunic, and it molded itself to his skin once more. 

Behind him stood his counterpart in the light pantheon: Clover, the god of good fortune. Like Qrow, he wore a white tunic with a himation, but instead of red, he favored blue-green. Unlike Qrow, he seemed unaffected by the heat, in spite of the layers he wore. His garments were clean, dry, and free of wrinkles, and his hair was neatly combed. The only hint that he might be feeling the heat was a faint flush to his cheeks and an near-feverish glint in his eye. 

After all these years, the flutter in Qrow’s stomach was small and easy to ignore, and shame rarely plagued him. His domain over misfortune was nominal at best, and if he grew embarrassed every time his powers turned on him, he wouldn’t feel anything else. If Clover—handsome, unflappable Clover—had a problem seeing Qrow half-naked with his hair matted down by sweat, then he’d have to get over it. Qrow nodded his acknowledgement at the other god.

Yang and Tai’s voices grew louder, and Qrow stiffened as another tree was struck by lightning. To the east, the plants were starting to wilt and bake in the sun. 

Clover sighed. “What are they fighting about now?”

Qrow raised his eyebrows. “I can’t even begin to imagine...”

“You’re my sunny little dragon!” Taiyang raged. “You were meant for life, not death!”

“Ah,” Qrow drawled, voice heavy with mock-understanding. “Only the same thing they’ve _been_ fighting about for the better part of three thousand years.”

Clover rolled his eyes. “I wish one of them would learn. And I wish Taiyang would stop summoning _us_ to deal with it.”

Qrow barked out a mirthless laugh. “He summons _me_ , Lucky Charm. You’re just stuck with me. Practically part of the family.”

A neurotic nature god, a half-breed with anger issues, and a drunk from the underworld with his hostage light counterpart; it was a better family situation than whatever the hell Zeus had going on at any given moment, but that wasn’t saying much. 

For a long moment, Clover just...stared at Qrow. It got under his skin. "What?" Qrow snapped. 

“Nothing,” Clover replied, raising his hands in surrender. 

The sky dimmed then, and they both looked up. The sun had faded from blinding white to a warm gold, and the sky around it was now a deep and calming shade of blue. Taiyang was gone. The clouds were still lingering, however, indicating that Yang had been left to sulk in the clearing. 

Qrow’s ire left him as suddenly as it came, and resignation took its place. He stepped into the clearing and found Yang sitting in the grass. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, and tears shone in her purple eyes. Qrow and Clover exchanged looks, and then Qrow walked deeper into the clearing. Of the two of them, Qrow had been the one to help raise Yang, so Clover hung back while Qrow took a seat behind his niece, his back pressed against hers. “Hey, Fireball."

Yang's head fell back against his shoulder. He couldn't see her, but he knew her eyes would be squeezed shut. She had never liked to let anyone see her cry, though Qrow wondered if Blake had ever been allowed to see her tears. Yang swallowed hard. “I just…I wish I knew what to say to make him understand,” she rasped.

Qrow sighed, and his own eyes fell shut. He could picture Yang’s face, drawn with pain. He could see the stubborn set of Blake’s mouth and the wounded sheen in her eye. He’d seen both of those expressions on Taiyang and Raven's faces, millennia ago. “He just doesn’t want you to hurt the way he did,” he said dutifully.

“Blake is _nothing_ like Mom,” Yang spat. 

“The dark can’t mix with the light, Yang. One eventually drives out the other.”

“Then _why_ did Ozpin make it like this?! Why do we all have opposites that appear on the mortal plane with us?” Yang demanded. 

“Because opposites need each other.” 

Yang and Qrow both went very still. 

“Because one can’t be known or appreciated without the other, and in fact, there are _plenty_ of happy friendships and even marriages between the dark and light pantheons.”

A beat passed, and Qrow and Yang slowly turned as one to look at Clover. 

Leaning against a tree at the edge of the clearing, Clover seemed to be fascinated by a patch of mushrooms growing near his left foot. Despite the nonchalant pose, Qrow recognized the tension in his body. Clover knew he might have just crossed a line. Three thousand years, he had helped Qrow guard Yang whenever Tai saw fit. He and Qrow were bound to one another, one forced to appear on the mortal plane whenever the other was there, but he had never once offered his opinion on the matter. Qrow had no idea why he felt compelled to start interjecting on family matters now. 

“Oh, yeah? Then why did Raven run out on Tai, smart guy? What else can Blake offer Yang but misery?”

“Hey!”

“Oh, apologies. What else can they offer _each other_ but misery?” Qrow grunted when Yang elbowed him in the spine. 

Clover frowned thoughtfully. “Your sister is the goddess of the night, isn’t she?”

“She is,” Qrow agreed warily. 

“But Taiyang isn’t the god of the day,” Clover reasoned. “He’s the god of the sun. Taiyang made a point to pursue someone who wasn’t _his_ opposite, and it ended poorly. Now, he is pursuing Summer, and anyone would agree the sun and the moon are far more suited.”

“Okay, why do _you_ get it, but Dad and Qrow don’t?” Yang asked. 

“Because he’s an idealistic moron.” Qrow replied for Clover. Clover and Yang both looked offended, and Qrow suddenly wanted more wine. He changed tact. “Look, Tai will calm down. He always does. Just keep your head down for a century or two, practice your creating, and it will all blow over. Then, you can go back to normal.” 

Yang jumped to her feet, and Qrow tensed to keep from falling over. 

“That’s the problem, Qrow! I don’t want this to _be_ normal anymore! I’m sick of having to sneak around with Blake, and I’m sick of Dad blowing up at me about it.” She paced around Qrow as she spoke, and when she stopped in front of him, she took a fortifying breath. Almost pleading, she said: “I want to marry her.”

Qrow would have been less flabbergasted if she’d struck him with a bolt of lightning. 

Clover, the bastard, looked completely unsurprised by Yang’s announcement. 

“You’re too young for that!” Qrow blurted out. Yang tilted up her chin, an expression of stubbornness that was all Raven. She truly meant it, Qrow realized, and he lurched to his feet. “Have you lost your mind?”

"I love her." Yang spoke slowly, like Qrow was a particularly dim-witted child. "And I don't care what you or Dad think."

Qrow glared down at her. “And how certain are you about _her_ love, Yang? In three thousand years, has she ever once stayed to face Taiyang’s anger? No! She runs and leaves you to deal with it! I don’t see her making a grand declaration like this.” 

Yang staggered back like Qrow had slapped her, and even Clover looked startled. Guilt burned in Qrow’s chest. In the course of her involvement with Yang, he had gotten to know Blake a little, and he knew he wasn’t being fair. Still, he didn’t take the words back. Taiyang would never welcome Blake to the world of the living, so the only way Yang could marry her was if they made a home for themselves among the dead. That was madness, and it needed to be nipped in the bud now. 

Yang clenched her jaw and glared up at him. “I hope you know a love like this someday. Maybe then you’ll understand.”

Qrow let out a mirthless laugh. “Bad luck, remember? I wasn’t meant to be loved. Now, go practice.”

Qrow stalked to the opposite side of the clearing from Clover and leaned back against a tree. He could feel the other god watching him, but he kept his eyes on Yang. Qrow didn’t need or want his pity. No one wanted bad luck. It was a fact of life Qrow had accepted long ago. He didn’t need anyone’s love. Humanity's fear and respect was enough. Yang and Tai's affection, inconstant as it was, was enough. His acquaintanceship with Clover was enough. It would take more than some harsh words from a lovesick child to rattle him. 

With a growl, Yang kicked at the ground, and thousands of plants tore themselves up by the roots. A bare patch of dirt about twenty feet long and five feet wide stretched out in front of her. With a stomp of her foot, gray-green seedlings rippled to life across the rich black earth. Her golden hair began to glow, and locks of it whipped around her face like open flames. A moment later, it fell limp around her shoulders as the gathered energy spiraled down her arms to slam into the ground. Every new shoot in the patch flared white as one before fading back to gray-green. Dark and wispy leaves unfurled as the plants began to grow. 

Already they smelled strange, like mud and decay, and Qrow hoped this wasn’t going to be a repeat of the corpse flower. Once the stems were about a foot high, pitch-black buds started to form, and they kept darkening until they seemed to eat the sunlight around them. Yang frowned in concentration, and the buds began to open. Qrow blinked as the scent of ocean water crashed over him. His eyes darted to Clover before he could think better of it. Clover was staring back at him. Qrow quickly tore his gaze away, cheeks burning.

Yang’s flowers finished blooming, revealing dusky purple petals edged with that light-eating black. In the middle of each bloom was a cluster of bright yellow stamens. As one, the flowers released a cloud of pollen that glittered like gold dust in the sunshine. Qrow shuddered helplessly as the scent of ripe oranges perfumed the air. Wet earth, oranges, and the sea. To Qrow, it smelled like life and prosperity. It smelled like _good luck_.

He felt lightheaded, and he braced one foot against the tree behind him, partly to steady himself and partly to hide how hard he had become. Qrow's skin was burning even hotter now, and sweat trickled down his thighs. Once again, his tunic was sticking to him, so he grabbed the hem and pulled it low. It was hard to breathe all of a sudden. The air was thick and heavy, and the taste of oranges clung to the back of Qrow’s tongue. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry. 

Across the clearing, Clover was hunched over with his arms crossed over his chest. For the first time in their long lives, Qrow thought Clover looked...disheveled. A pink flush had overtaken his face and creeped down his neck. His broad chest heaved with great panting breaths, and his hair was sticking to his forehead. The bunched muscle of his arms and shoulders glistened with sweat, and Qrow couldn’t look away from the toned lines of his body. He licked his lips. 

He was bowled over then by a fantasy—vision?—so sudden and vivid, his knees almost gave out. Qrow's fingers dug into the dense muscle of Clover's shoulders, his onyx rings gleaming faintly against Clover's golden skin. Clover’s hips rolled as he thrust into Qrow over and over again, hard and slow. Clover’s deep moans resonated through his chest, and he was pressed so close to Qrow that he could feel it as much as hear it. It shook him to the bone and added to his own pleasure. Qrow’s blood was simmering beneath his skin. The air smelled like sex and that rich _oceanorangeearth_ smell. 

Qrow gasped as he came back to reality. The pollen felt like sand coating his throat, and he started to cough. He needed water. “Yang! I’m going to the river. Stay here.”

He pivoted so that he was facing away from Yang when his foot hit the ground. As expected, the way his cock tented the front of his tunic was obscene. The fabric fluttered over him in a teasing caress when he took a few steps, and he shuddered, biting his lip. He gripped the tunic and held it tight over his cock. What if he just stayed like this for a minute? As sensitive as he felt right now, he could probably come just from rubbing the tunic over his cock a little. It would take the edge off. He could think clearly, and he would remember why pouncing on Clover was a bad idea. It would also feel _really good_. 

Instead, he started moving again. Somehow. 

His legs were shaking by the time he made it to the river. The water was frigid against his burning skin, but his erection didn’t wilt in the slightest. As he waded deeper into the river, the current felt like thousands of fingers, thousands of _tongues,_ trailing over his sensitive skin, and Qrow groaned at the sensation. When the hem of his tunic was skimming the water, Qrow chanced a look behind him. There was no sign of Yang’s golden hair or Clover’s blue-green himation. Good. A sudden swell of water lapped over his cock, and he cried out at the flare of ecstasy that lashed up his spine. 

What was _happening_ to him? He didn’t recall ever being this sensitive before. He raised his tunic, letting out a shivery moan as water droplets fell onto his cock. What did it matter what was happening? He was about to have the best orgasm he's had in millennia. He teasingly stroked the head of his cock before trailing his fingers down the shaft. His stomach tensed at the pleasure that sizzled through his blood, and he wrapped a hand around his cock— 

“Qrow.”

Qrow ripped his hand away like he’d been burned, smacking the water with a splash. He yanked the hem of his tunic down and whirled to face Clover. “I need to be alone,” he growled.

“I’ll be quick,” Clover replied, kneeling at the river’s edge. He scooped some water up in cupped hands, and tiny rivulets flowed down his neck as he drank. 

Qrow wanted to lick it off. He also wanted to tear Clover limb from limb for interrupting him. Most of all, he wanted to tackle the other god and rut against him until they’d both come. Qrow’s body jerked as Clover thoroughly licked his lips, and Qrow was overwhelmed by another fantasy, this time about Clover sucking his cock. He saw his fingers tangled in Clover’s hair, Clover’s pink lips wrapped tight around his cock, and Clover’s cheeks hollowing as he sucked. He saw Clover’s blue-green eyes, dark with hunger, looking up at him. 

It was too much for Qrow’s knees this time. They buckled, and he dropped into the river like a stone, shouting as the frigid water engulfed him up to his neck. 

“Qrow!” Clover cried, leaping to his feet. His blue-green himation disappeared with a touch, and he bounded into the water. 

Qrow was already almost to his feet when Clover reached him, but the other god still felt the need to grab Qrow by the arm and haul him up anyway. Qrow overbalanced and pitched forward, but Clover, of course, remained steady on his feet. Qrow ended up pressed tight against Clover with his undeniably hard cock digging into Clover’s stomach. Clover's hand remained on his arm, while the other settled low on Qrow's back. 

"Are you alright?" Clover asked softly.

“Fine,” Qrow gritted out. He was not as immune to embarrassment as he'd once thought, but he'd live. Unfortunately. He started to pull away, but Clover’s hold on him tightened. The hand on Qrow’s back began to move in slow, soothing circles, and Qrow’s limbs stopped working entirely.

“Interesting flowers Yang made, don’t you think?” Clover asked. 

His tone was conversational, like there was nothing strange at all about them holding each other like this. It was somehow perfectly normal for Clover to be breathing in Qrow's ear and stroking his back with Qrow's hard cock pressed between them. Qrow’s skin prickled with gooseflesh and his head spun. 

“The mud smell wasn’t a promising start, but when she added frost and pomegranate...” Clover’s breath left him in a rush, and he shook his head. 

Frost and pomegranate? The confusion was like a beacon in Qrow’s foggy mind, and he tried to step back again. 

Instead of pulling him back, Clover simply grabbed Qrow’s ass and squeezed. 

Qrow let out a strangled wheeze, and then Clover was lifting him off his feet. His hands scrabbled at Clover’s shoulders as Clover continued to lift him higher. Unbalanced as he was, Qrow’s only options were to wrap his legs around Clover’s waist or fall. He wrapped his legs around Clover’s waist and gasped when he felt an unmistakable hardness prodding at his ass. “Clover, what are you doing?”

“Making a grand declaration,” was Clover’s preposterous reply.

Clover crossed the river and lowered Qrow onto the opposite bank, where a patch of soft, thick moss tickled Qrow’s skin. His forearms landed on either side of Qrow’s head, and Qrow, wide-eyed and breathless, didn’t move as Clover leaned down. Surely, he wasn’t about to— 

Clover’s lips met Qrow’s, and Qrow’s mouth fell open on a stuttered gasp. Clover let out a contented hum that vibrated against Qrow’s lips, and he _melted_ on top of Qrow, pressing him deep into the moss. He kissed Qrow with a slow deliberation that made the world stop turning. Qrow’s eyes fell shut with a moan, and before he could think better of it, he was kissing Clover back, his fingers scraping through the short hair at the back of Clover’s head. When Clover pulled away a moment later, Qrow’s blood was buzzing. It took far longer than it should have for Qrow to remember that this wasn’t supposed to be happening. 

“Clover,” he said urgently. The word came out breathier than he would have liked. He tilted his chin up when Clover tried to kiss him again, but instead of stopping like he was supposed to, Clover licked a slow path up the side of Qrow's neck like Qrow’s skin was the only thing he ever wanted to taste again. The thought made Qrow shiver, and he punched Clover in the shoulder. “Clover!”

Clover reared back with a frown. His face was flushed a warm shade of pink, and his eyes were fucking _glittering_. A moment later, his starstruck look faded, and his crestfallen expression made Qrow’s chest ache. “Do you really not want to?”

“It’s just Yang’s flowers!” Qrow blurted out. It was the only thing he could think of that had changed. He and Clover had known each other for over twenty thousand years, and he had never once expressed an interest in Qrow, despite his ‘opposites need each other’ talk earlier. “You don’t actually want this.”

Clover huffed derisively. “I want you because of Yang’s flowers?”

“Yes.” 

Clover laid his forehead against Qrow’s. “And did you only kiss me back because of Yang’s flowers?”

Qrow was fully prepared to lie, but under the force of Clover’s gaze, the words got stuck in his throat. What came out instead was: “Just...why me?”

Clover kissed him again, and Qrow couldn’t help but return it. “I like talking to you. Even with that endless cynicism of yours.” Clover smiled against Qrow’s mouth. He kissed him once more. “I like looking at you.” His palm was broad and hot on Qrow’s knee, and when it slid down the length of his inner thigh, it warmed Qrow to the bone. “And I want to be inside you,” Clover finished, and Qrow jerked when two thick fingers rubbed firmly against his hole. 

Clover’s fingers moved in slow, teasing circles, and the movement grew easier—wetter—with each pass, likely a result of one of them willing it to be so. Qrow’s mouth fell open with a groan as the first finger pressed inside him, and Clover licked into his mouth, turning the kiss into something messier and hungrier. The need behind it stole Qrow's breath, made his head spin and heart race. 

In spite of his urgency, Clover took his time opening Qrow up, carefully sliding a finger in and out and tugging at his rim until Qrow was loose enough to take another. Two fingers pressed in, and Qrow’s breath stuttered at the stretch of it. They spread out and closed back together several times, opening Qrow even more, and when Clover’s fingers skated over Qrow’s prostate, it set every nerve in his body alight. He grunted and clawed at the moss underneath him. 

“There you are,” Clover murmured. His voice was husky and a little bit smug, and any other time it would have annoyed Qrow on principle. However, Clover was doing a fine job of distracting him. He rubbed against Qrow’s prostate over and over again, sending jolts of bone-deep pleasure through Qrow's body. It had been too long since anyone had touched him like this, so of course, Clover pulled away far too soon. Qrow made a protesting noise that he will never deign to call a whine, even with Clover smiling at him like that. 

Then he couldn’t breathe. 

Clover pulled off his tunic, leaving him fully bare before Qrow. His hair was sticking up in places, and his lips were bruised red. His face was reddened by the bristle of Qrow’s facial hair, and that flush Qrow had become so enamored with extended down to his chest. At some point, he had gotten mud on his tunic, and when he'd pulled it off, streaks of dirt had been left behind on his toned stomach, across one hip, and even along his jaw. Between his legs, his cock was hard and slowly leaking pre-come. In all of his long, long life, Qrow had never seen Clover anything less than perfectly groomed, and now he was naked and filthy and staring at Qrow like he meant to eat him alive. Qrow's need _ached_ inside him. 

Qrow planted a foot in the center of Clover’s chest and shoved him back. Clover yelped and threw his hands out behind him, catching himself on his palms. Qrow pushed himself up and dragged off his tunic. Flinging it aside, he pressed close to Clover and kissed him fiercely. The other man groaned, full-bodied and happy, and Qrow experienced a moment of weightlessness before he found himself flat on his back again. He moaned, the sound guttural and unsteady, when three of Clover’s fingers speared into him once more. They curled and rubbed hard at his prostate, making Qrow writhe at the intense pleasure that wracked his body. Clover was moving even more urgently before. 

“Think I’ll change my mind or something?” Qrow panted when Clover pulled away to mouth at his neck. 

“A little,” Clover replied, disarming in his honesty. 

Qrow tangled his fingers in Clover’s hair and dragged his mouth back to his own. He bit down hard on his lower lip as punishment for such a stupid thought. Clover grunted, and his hips canted against Qrow’s. His cock skimmed against Qrow’s in a way that made Qrow’s legs spasm, and he wrapped his legs tightly around Clover’s hips. Qrow bit him again. “Fuck me,” Qrow growled. 

Clover cursed and slid his fingers out of Qrow. He pressed the tip of his cock against Qrow’s sensitive rim, and Qrow shuddered, biting his lip in anticipation. He couldn't remember the last time he wanted anything as much as he wanted Clover’s cock inside him. The press of it was slow but relentless, and in one long and satisfying thrust, Clover made a space for himself in Qrow’s body. It forced the air from Qrow’s lungs and had him arching against Clover. 

It occurred to Qrow then that even when this was over, Clover would never truly leave him. Qrow would remember this for all eternity, carry a part of Clover with him until the world ended. Qrow’s eyes darted over Clover’s face, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to look directly into his eyes. He couldn’t face the idea of his love being unrequited, not right now, but the thought of it being returned was just as paralyzing. If Clover loved him...surely the misfortune that inhabited Qrow would destroy him on the spot in defiance of such providence.

Qrow’s body seemed unaware of the turmoil in his mind. He went pliant as Clover bottomed out inside him, and his arms sprawled over the moss. His legs were still hooked weakly around Clover’s hips, and his lips had curled into a small, dreamy smile without his input or permission. His body trembled at the onslaught of heat and sensation that washed over him. 

“Look at you,” Clover said wonderingly. His hands smoothed up Qrow’s legs, along his sides, and then over his arms. His fingers tangled with Qrow’s, and he caught Qrow’s mouth in another frenzied kiss. Qrow groaned as Clover began to move, withdrawing in a long, slow drag that Qrow felt every inch of. Clover broke the kiss to look down at where they were joined. “It’s like you don’t want to let me go,” he murmured, sounding dazed. 

“I don’t,” Qrow rasped before he could think better of it. 

Clover looked up, and his eyes met Qrow’s. His eyes were dark with hunger, but there was a softness to his expression that was fond and a little bit awed. That look froze the breath in Qrow’s chest. 

Oh.

 _Oh_. 

Clover loved him. 

It was impossible and too good to be true. It was too _lucky_ to happen to the likes of Qrow, but he could feel it, the same way he felt it whenever Taiyang summoned him or a creature experienced a moment of misfortune. The knowledge fell into place and filled a void Qrow hadn’t even realized was there. The moment hung as if time itself had been suspended, and Qrow remained frozen in disbelief.

Clover, it seemed, had no such problem. He drove back into Qrow in a single hard thrust, and Qrow’s shout was husky and exultant. Clover set a slow, hard pace just like Qrow wanted, rolling his hips in a way that ensured his cock caught on Qrow’s prostate with every thrust. Qrow tightened his legs around Clover’s hips. He moved to wrap his arms around Clover, but his hands were still held fast. He settled for nipping at Clover’s lips and sucking marks into his neck. Pleasure built low in his gut, licked up his spine, and radiated to the tips of fingers and toes. 

“Fuck, Qrow,” Clover breathed. He sunk his teeth into Qrow’s neck, biting hard enough to make Qrow’s whole body jerk. He licked over the mark he left behind. “Twenty thousand years. I’ve wanted to do this for twenty. Thousand. Years.” 

He said the last words through gritted teeth and punctuated each one with a particularly hard thrust. Each stroke forced a low, guttural cry out of Qrow’s mouth. It felt so good that it took a moment for Clover’s words to actually sink in, and Qrow’s head fell back with a long, loud moan. Clover bit his neck again. He picked up the pace, pounding into Qrow with deep, hard strokes. He fucked Qrow like he’d die without it, and Qrow loved it. 

“Gonna—fuck!—come, Clover,” Qrow panted. Clover let go of one of his hands to grab his cock. He stroked Qrow in time with his thrusts, and moments later, Qrow came so hard that his hearing turned muffled and his vision blurred. 

“Fuck, _fuck,_ look at you, just—” Clover trailed off helplessly. He gripped Qrow’s ass with both hands and tilted his hips up higher. He was still driving hard into Qrow, but his pace had become unsteady, and Qrow knew that he had to be close. The aftershocks of Qrow’s orgasm, stoked and prolonged by Clover’s continued strokes, tilted dangerously between pain and pleasure. Qrow’s limbs were weak and twitchy, but he managed to make them move. Qrow wrapped his arms around Clover’s shoulders, digging his fingers into the muscle. His pale hands stood out against Clover’s golden skin, and his onyx rings gleamed faintly in the sunshine. 

Qrow scraped his teeth along the side of Clover’s neck and licked the rest of the way up to his ear. “Come in me,” he said, and the words came from deep in his chest, rumbling and harsh. “I want it.”

Clover groaned, burying himself deep in Qrow, and shuddered. He slumped on top of Qrow, and Qrow purred at the heavy press of the other man’s body on top of him, grounding him. His legs fell away from Clover’s hips, but he kept a tight hold on Clover’s shoulders. Clover was panting and trembling, and Qrow slowly rubbed his back, letting out a contented sigh. He smiled a little as Clover’s breathing started to slow, and Clover pressed a soft kiss to Qrow’s neck. 

“Is this what I should have done twenty thousand years ago?” Clover said with a weak, incredulous laugh. “Just picked you up and fucked you until you loved me?”

Qrow scoffed. “I already loved you.” 

Clover went very still. 

Qrow’s fingers flexed, digging deeper into Clover’s shoulders, but he sounded calm enough when he spoke. “No panicking now. You’re stuck with me.”

“Practically part of the family,” Clover agreed with an incredulous laugh. “But I am _outraged_ that I could have done this twenty thousand years ago.

Qrow rolled them over and sat up on Clover’s stomach. He trailed his fingers over the toned lines of Clover’s arms and chest. “Well, now you can do it for the next twenty thousand years.”

He laughed as Clover yanked him down to kiss him. 

* * *

Yang was just putting the finishing touches on her newest flower when the earth beneath them caved in with a roar. Four massive black horses galloped from the void, pulling a shining black chariot embossed with gold flowers. Yang beamed at the driver, a beautiful goddess with long black hair and bright gold eyes.

“Subtle,” Yang said, but her joy made the sarcasm fall a little flat.

Blake looked around with exaggerated care. Her placid expression made the action even funnier. “Obviously. Are you ready?”

Yang gripped the edge of the chariot and swung in behind Blake. “Yep! Dad’s going to be sulking for _at least_ 80 years or so, and Qrow and Clover—”

“Clover!” Qrow sounded both shocked and ecstatic.

“—are busy,” Yang finished, raising her voice a little to be heard over a happy moan that might have been from Clover.

Blake blinked. “What did you _do_ to them?”

Yang grinned wolfishly. She wrapped her arms around Blake and gave her a squeeze. “Let’s see how many of my flowers made it to the underworld and find out.”

**Author's Note:**

> I actually made up the flowers and then found a surprisingly similar real life example called the Louisiana Gamecock Iris.


End file.
